


Klaine Advent 2017

by lilinas



Series: Expectation Fails [21]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Bondage, Chastity Device, Dom Kurt, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Just all the kinky stuff, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Romance, Sub Blaine, can't forget that one!, you guys know me!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 18,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: A series of ficlets in the Expectation Fails 'verse following the Klaine Advent 2017. The chapter title is the prompt word. These will bounce around in time wherever my brain takes me, but they're all EF Kurt and Blaine!





	1. Attachment

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, because I am batshit fucking insane, I am doing the Klaine Advent 2017. I wasn't going to, given that I haven't finished the Klaine Advent 2016 yet, and I really, really need to get on to some new works, but someone pointed out that we don't know how long there will be interest for these Advents and, you know, if this is the last I'd be bummed I didn't participate, and if it's NOT the last I'd be bummed to have a 2017-shaped hole in my Advent works! So I'm in. Hopefully I'll keep to the schedule. If I don't, I'm not going to stress. Too much. Publicly. ;)

“Blaine, stop squirming!”

“Is this really necessary?”

Kurt sighed. He looked up from his work, over Blaine’s shoulder, and made eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. “You really expect me not to practice before the wedding?” He went back to fiddling. “I just have to figure out where to tie off this section around your balls.”

Blaine twisted against the fine white braided rope that wrapped his chest in an intricate, Kurt-designed harness. “I don’t mean the practicing. I mean the whole idea.”

“It should attach to the knot between your shoulder blades, but if I run it up like that it’s going to completely ruin the lines of your jacket and god, I’d never hear the end of it from Paolo . . .”

“Kurt!”

Kurt raised his eyes again.

Blaine didn’t quite meet his gaze this time. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“If what’s a good idea?”

“For me to . . .” he ducked his head and his cheeks stained pink, “. . . walk down the aisle in bondage.”

Kurt snorted. “Say that again without sounding like you’re about to come, and I’ll consider it.”

“Of course I sound like I’m about to come. I always sound like I’m about to come. It’s been months and you’ve been vicious.”

“Well excuse me for wanting your wedding-night orgasm to be spectacular.”

That stopped Blaine in his verbal tracks. “Wedding-night orgasm?”

“Mm-hmm.” Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine’s torso and tugged at the ropes that crisscrossed there. “As many as you want. Any way you want them.”

“Oh god . . .”

“So can you blame me for wanting to . . . heighten the anticipation?” Kurt pinched Blaine’s nipple.

“I’m pretty sure it’s going to be high enough without the –”

“Blaine.”

“What if someone sees?”

“Oh good lord. No one’s going to see, Blaine. I do have some experience in these matters.”

“I know you do but –”

“It’s not like I’m making you wear a vibrator or a . . .” Kurt trailed off as inspiration struck. He let go of Blaine and backed up staring at the rope, his mind working. “A plug . . . hmmm . . .”

“No. No Kurt!”

“I could tie off around the base and then there wouldn’t be . . .”

“Kurt!”

Once again Kurt met Blaine’s eyes in the mirror. This time they actually did look panicked.

“No plug,” Blaine said. “No vibrator, no dildo, nothing in my ass. I can’t Kurt. Not in front of everyone. I’m serious. Look at my face.” He pointed at himself. “This is not an orgasm face. Serious face.”

Kurt laughed. He couldn’t help it. Blaine trying to look fierce never stopped being adorable. “Fine," he relented. "No plug. I’ll come up with some other way to tie off these balls.”

“And no rope harness.”

Kurt could see Blaine was trying hard to keep his serious face in place as he said it. _Trying_ being the operative word.

“Ooh! So close! But what kind of dom would I be if I couldn’t tell when you’re serious and when you only wish you were serious?”

Blaine gave up and fierce turned to pouting. “The nice kind? The merciful kind?”

“Think of how romantic it’ll be.” Kurt tugged the end of rope he held, which in turn pulled Blaine’s bound balls up and back just enough to make his body tense in anticipation. “We can’t see each other the day of the wedding, so I’ll have to put this on you the night before, and you’ll have to sleep in it, all bound up and thinking about me. Imagine how hungry you’ll be for me after that, then walking down the aisle to me, my ring on your finger, my ropes around your body . . .”

Blaine’s flush darkened and his head made another little ducking circle. “But what if I . . . ?”

“Get hard in front of everyone?” Kurt pulled the rope tighter. “Leak all over your custom couture tuxedo?”

Blaine’s mouth opened but no words came out. Finally he nodded.

Kurt dropped the end of the rope, letting Blaine’s balls fall back into place with a bounce that, by the look on Blaine’s face, was equal parts painful and arousing. He turned and headed out of the room, back to his sketches, because there just had to be a way to attach that last rope without changing his basic design.

“Silly boy,” he called back over his shoulder, “that’s why god created chastity cages with urethral plugs.”


	2. Bucket

“Nooooo!”

The cry from the bedroom was so heavy with desperate frustration that Blaine almost dropped the plate he was washing in his rush to set it down. “Kurt?” he called out as he dried his hands. “What’s wrong?

“I can’t find it!”

In the bedroom Blaine found Kurt kneeling on the floor surrounded by several three-ring binders, all in different colors, all stuffed full of papers. “What are you looking for?” he asked

Kurt looked up at Blaine with such genuine alarm that Blaine’s heart shifted into overdrive. He reflexively glanced at Kurt’s left hand, but the ring was still there, glittering.

“My bucket list!” As he said it Kurt gestured vaguely at the binders on the floor.

“Your . . .? Don’t you keep that on your phone?”

“The main one, yes. But I’m talking about my wedding sub-bucket.”

“Sub . . .?”

“Lists of things I want at my wedding. I can’t find two of the volumes!”

Blaine decided it was best to sit down. He plopped on the floor next to the pale blue binder. “There are volumes?”

“I’ve been planning my wedding since I was four. Of course there are volumes.” Kurt’s eyes swept the room, sharp as a hawk’s, searching.

Blaine eyed the binders. “Well, what are these then?”

Kurt sighed and pointed at each binder in turn. “Clothing, decorations, food, honeymoon, Blaine.”

“You have a Blaine sub-bucket?”

“Sub-sub-bucket,” Kurt clarified, with a tone in his voice that implied Blaine certainly should have been able to figure that out on his own.

“Sub-sub . . . ?”

“It used to be groom, before I met you. You know, pictures of all the men I could imagine as my perfect match.”

“And now?”

“Obviously now it’s all the things you want for our wedding.”

Blaine frowned. “Have we ever even talked about what I want for our wedding?”

“Please, Blaine. I’ve been living with you for years.”

Blaine waited for more but Kurt apparently thought that was all there was to say about that. He sighed. “So which ones are missing?”

“Ceremony and music, obviously.”

“Of course. And we can’t just . . .” Kurt gave Blaine a look so withering he thought he could feel wrinkles forming on his forehead. “No, obviously we can’t . . . I don’t know what I was thinking . . .”

Kurt turned his glare on binders and shook his head. “I must have left them in Lima. That has to be it.”

“Well okay then!” Blaine said, happy to finally have something constructive to offer. “We’ll just call Carole. I bet she’ll be able to find them.”

Kurt’s face lit up. “You’re right. Of course. She’ll know where to look. Ooh! And I can have her send my boxes of wedding magazines too. Where’d I leave my phone?” He jumped up and headed out to the living room, leaving Blaine alone among the sub-bucket binders.

“Boxes?!” Blaine called after him. “Plural?”

But the Kurt Hummel wedding train had left his station. From the living room Blaine could hear Kurt chattering at Carole, begging her to help him save the _most important day of my life!_

Blaine smiled. He leaned back, pulled the Blaine sub-sub-bucket list under his head for a pillow, closed his eyes, and listened.


	3. Collapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading and commenting. You guys are so awesome with the comments and I WILL respond, I promise! <33

“Oh god. No, please Kurt. I can’t . . . I can’t take anymore.”

“Don’t be silly. Two more. You can take two more, can’t you? For me?”

Blaine glanced wildly up and down the street, looking for a bench, a bus stop, hell, he’d be willing to sit on a retaining wall at this point. But New York proved completely unhelpful. Kurt was already walking on ahead of him, so sure of his acquiescence, Blaine knew, that he didn’t even bother to look back. Blaine had to raise his voice to call after him. “We’ve already been to six stores! We’ve tried on all the tuxedos in Manhattan. And I don’t even know why we’re doing this because I thought you and Paolo were designing our suits.”

Kurt stopped and spun, really spun, like a model on a runway, then struck a pose that had passers-by craning their necks to see if something interesting was going on. “Because, Blaine, as I explained to you when we started out, formal wear isn’t exactly my _métier._  I need to _immerse_ myself in the market. How can I make sure _our_ tuxedos are one of a kind if I don’t know what I’m up against?”

“You have an entire binder of tuxedos!”

“I need to _see_ Blaine. What looks good on you. What looks good on me. What looks good together. My creative spark needs to be fed before it can blossom into flame.”

Blaine sighed and caught Kurt’s hand in his. “You know I love your flame. And I love that you want us to be perfect. But, six stores, Kurt. We've tried on so many suits I don't know how you can keep them all straight. I’m exhausted. My feet hurt. I want to go home.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed. Blaine could see the wheels turning in his brain. Blaine loved and feared those wheels.

“I’ll give you a choice.”

Blaine shook his head. “No. No choice, Kurt . . .”

Kurt tugged Blaine into an empty doorway and pulled him close. The wicked smirk Blaine loved and feared as much as the brain wheels played on his face. “We can go home right now, you can soak in a hot bath and collapse into bed –”

“Yes. That. I choose that.”

“Or . . .” Kurt raised an eyebrow and Blaine groaned, “. . . we can finish up the shops on my list, and then when we get home I’ll reward you."

"Kurt . . ."

"By hanging you from the ceiling and beating you.”

“Oh god . . .” Blaine sagged against Kurt’s body. It had been so long and they’d been so busy.

“With the tawse.”

“Jesus, Kurt!”

“Until you _really_ collapse.”

Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt’s in a kiss so hard and hungry that Kurt’s chest shook against his with silent laughter. When they parted blue eyes sparkled at him merrily. “Is that a yes?”

“I can't wait to try on more tuxedos for you, Sir," Blaine breathed.

Kurt grinned and pulled him by the hand, out of their alcove, onto the busy sidewalk, off to the next shop.

 

*     *     *     *     *

“No, please . . . please, I can’t . . .”

Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine’s dangling body and pulled him hard against his chest. The pressure on Blaine’s welted shoulders and ass made him moan.

“Two more, baby. You know you can. You know you want them.”

“Oh god, please . . .”

Kurt smiled against the back of Blaine’s neck then stepped back and took aim for the last two strokes. The first, hard and flat against Blaine’s scarlet ass, pulled a deep groan from Blaine’s throat. The second Kurt swung up between his legs, slapping his perineum, the end of the leather just barely flicking Blaine’s balls. Blaine cried out, a sound of pure agony, but before the echo had time to die away Kurt had the rope in his hands, releasing Blaine to fall back into his arms and be lowered gently down into his well-earned rest.


	4. Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluuuuufffff!

“Play with meee . . .”

Kurt dropped a bottle of water on the night stand then untangled Blaine’s arm from around his neck and lowered him gently to the bed. “No sweetie. You’re drunk. No playing when you’re drunk.”

The only light in the room came from the streets outside their window, but even in the dark Kurt could see Blaine’s eyes going soft then sharp as they tried to focus on him. His hands clutched the lapels of Kurt’s jacket and pulled, like he was trying to drag two Kurts back into one. “But I needed to try all the champagne. To make sure we have the best. Don’t you want the best champagne?”

He said it so earnestly that Kurt had to hold back a smile. “Yes, honey. And the one you picked is awesome. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“I was good,” Blaine crooned. “You should reward me.”

“Not when you’re drunk,” Kurt said. He plucked Blaine’s hands off his lapels and pushed him back – gently, of course.

“So punish me for being drunk, how ‘bout that?” Blaine suggested. His eyebrows danced across his forehead.

“The hangover you’re going to have tomorrow is going to be punishment enough, believe me.”

“You can’t get hungover from champagne,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “Katharine Hepburn said so in that movie.”

“Katharine Hepburn said you can’t get drunk from champagne. But she was wrong. And so are you. Now here, drink some water.”

Blaine shook his head again and pushed away the bottle. “Don’t want water. Want more champagne.”

“You need water Blaine. It’ll help your hangover.”

“Don’t have a hangover.”

Kurt sighed. “Would you please just drink the water.”

“No.”

“Blaine.”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed. “You could _make_ me drink it.”

“Blaine!”

“You know hy . . . hyd . . . water is very important for a drunk person.”

“I just said that.”

“Then you should be willing to do anything to make sure I’m safe and healthy and not being punished by anything but you.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake . . .” But it was hard to sound exasperated when you were trying not to laugh. Kurt threw a leg over Blaine and pushed up to his knees, straddling his lover’s thighs. His sudden closeness made Blaine’s eyes shift out of focus again and he wobbled but Kurt caught him by his shirt collar, holding him in place. “Listen, boy. I’m your master and if I say you’re going to drink this water, you’re going to drink this water,” he growled.

Blaine hummed a long note. “That’s so beautiful. I love it when you do that.”

“Then do as you’re told.”

“Yes Master. Whatever you say Master.”

Kurt offered the bottle again. “All of it,” he said.

Blaine chugged the water almost as quickly as he’d been chugging champagne earlier. When the bottle was empty he offered it to Kurt. “Now what Master?”

“Now you are going to be a very obedient boy and lie down and let me get you undressed. Then you’re going to go to sleep and remember not to wake me up if you have puke later.”

Blaine pouted.

“Well?” Kurt prompted. “Am I your master or not?”

“You are,” Blaine said. It was whinier than Kurt would have liked, but he fell back on his pillow and lay quietly while Kurt muscled him out of his clothes. So quietly that Kurt thought he’d gone to sleep, until a hand snaked across the bed to grab his as he was settling on his own pillow. Blaine's eyes were heavy with sleep but his smile was as beautiful as ever. “You are my master,” he said, sounding sleepy, but more normal than he had since they’d gotten home.

“Yes I am.”

“And you’re my husband.” Blaine’s thumb found Kurt’s ring and caressed it.

“No honey. We’re not married yet.” But Kurt smiled at his soulmate.

Blaine smiled back, and his eyes slipped closed. “I know that. I was being meta . . . meta . . .”

“Sleep, Blaine,” Kurt ordered.

And of course Blaine obeyed.


	5. Example

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revisiting Kurt and Blaine's New York friends . . . I have so much fun with these guys!

“All right, hold on!” Nathan raised his voice over the general chatter. “We haven’t asked the most important question.”

Kurt paused in his round of refilling drinks and glared at his friend. Nathan always had too many questions, and only about twenty percent of them were ever socially acceptable.

“Oh dear god, what now?” Lars demanded

Nathan just smiled back at Kurt, holding the moment until he had everyone’s attention. Then he held out his wine glass so Kurt could top him off. And only after Kurt was back on the sofa next to Blaine did he speak.

“The most important question is, is Blaine going to kneel and vow to obey?”

“I already did that,” Blaine said.

“At your _claiming_. We all did it at our claimings.”

“Bruce didn’t,” Lars said. His pup lifted his head from Lars’s knee and butted against his thigh.

“Because Bruce mostly just barks,” Nathan sniffed.

Bruce lifted his head again, and yipped.

“You tell him darling,” Lars said.

“A claiming and a wedding are two different things,” Jack said. "Not everyone wants to be that demonstrative in front of their nearest and dearest."

“Did Caleb kneel and vow to obey you?” Nathan asked.

Caleb, who was – as always – kneeling next to his husband with his head bowed, was – as always – silent.

“He did,” Jack said. “But Caleb’s my slave. That kind of deference is a big part of our relationship, even in public. Blaine and Kurt aren’t like that.”

“Come join the rest of us in the twenty-first century, Nathan dear,” Lars drawled. “Promising to obey in a wedding ceremony is completely _passé_.” He glanced at Jack. “No offense, but our Kurt is much too _au courant_ to want something so traditional.” He spat traditional like the word burned his mouth.

“Oh please.” Nathan gestured at Kurt. “Everyone here knows that beneath that fashionable exterior lurks the soul of an eighty-year-old woman named Edna.”

At that several voices broke out at once, Sean trying to quiet Nathan, Jack trying to reason with him, and Lars reassuring Bruce, whose whines cut through all the other noise. Kurt was just taking a breath to decry the Edna comment when Blaine’s voice rose above the hubbub.

“Excuse me! Does anybody care what I have to say about it?”

All heads turned to Blaine. He took as long a dramatic pause as Nathan had earlier, which made Kurt smile.

“Do tell,” Lars prompted.

“I’m going to do whatever Kurt wants me to do.”

Bruce barked his approval. Nathan groaned.  Sean raised his glass in a toast. “Blaine Anderson. An example to all of you.”

Nathan snorted. “He’s just saying that because he doesn’t want to awaken Groomzilla.”

Blaine smiled. “If you knew Kurt as well as you think you do, you’d know that Groomzilla took over the minute the ring was on his finger.”

“Hey!” Kurt protested.

“Honey, you have eight wedding binders.”

“Only eight?” Nathan asked. “I’m grudgingly impressed at your restraint.”

“Thank you!”

“Besides,” Blaine said, drawing attention back to himself, “I like Groomzilla.” He smiled at Kurt. “He’s got a kind of vicious edge that’s just . . . nice.”

He may have said _nice_ , but his eyes telegraphed something much more interesting, and Kurt grabbed his hand to pull him close. “When are you people leaving?” he asked, without taking his eyes from his soulmate’s.

“Like I said,” he heard Sean say, “an example to you all.”

Bruce whined.

“Not you darling,” Lars whispered. “You’re perfect just as you are.”


	6. Fraction

“Groomzilla, huh?”

Kurt licked up Blaine’s cock, hot tongue flat against rigid, throbbing flesh, stopping just short of the swollen head. Again. He pulled back and looked up at his disheveled, desperate soulmate. Blaine’s curls were sweat-matted and his hands, which had spent the first hour or so of this torture clutching the spindles of the headboard, lay limp now on the mattress. The only things that moved were his heaving chest and his hips. Completely beyond his control, they rocked his dick up and down in a frantic search for friction. But everything else was limp and spent. He couldn’t even find the strength to lift his head as he begged.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, “I’m so sorry Kurt. I take it back. Oh god . . . nooooo . . .”

Blaine sang his need as Kurt’s tongue took another long lick. This time Kurt fluttered his tongue over Blaine’s frenulum, fast but light as air, and Blaine’s body went rigid.

“No, no, no, I can’t, please . . .”

“What do you want, Blaine?”

Blaine tilted his chin down far enough to point his eyes at Kurt, but they were wild and unfocused. “I want to come,” he said through ragged gasps, “for the love of god, Kurt, please. I have to come.”

Kurt hid his smile in the crease of Blaine’s thigh. As much as Blaine loved to beg, he rarely ever said those words. _I want to come_. He’d say _please_ and _I can’t take anymore_ and _it’s been so long_ , but most of the time, no matter how much he begged, Kurt knew that the deepest part of him wanted to be controlled and denied. He only ever asked directly when he’d really, truly reached the end of his rope. If Blaine said he wanted to come, Blaine _wanted_ to come.

“I would let you, baby, it’s just –”

“It’ll still be amazing, I promise, Kurt, I swear it’ll be perfect.”

“What will?”

Scenting hope, Blaine managed to raise his head and this time when he looked at Kurt his eyes pulled into focus. Kurt was impressed. He couldn't imagine where Blaine found the energy.

“Our wedding night,” Blaine panted. “We still have months for you to make me desperate again. It won’t matter if I come now. I promise I’ll be just as needy and . . . and . . . whatever you want me to be, Kurt. Anything you want. _Please._ ”

“I would, sweetie,” Kurt said in his very nicest, most sympathetic voice. “But there’s just one little problem with that idea.”

“No. No problem. What problem?”

Kurt wrapped his fingers around Blaine’s tender balls and squeezed. “You just told a roomful of our dearest friends how much you like it when I’m vicious.”

Blaine’s hopeful burst of energy deserted him and he fell back onto the bed with a groan, well and truly beaten by Kurt’s inescapable logic and his punishing grip.

“So I’m going to tease this cock – viciously – tonight and as much as I want until our wedding day.”

Kurt dragged one finger across the pre-slick head of Blaine’s dick and circled his slit in a light, dizzying caress. Blaine moaned like a damned soul trapped in hell – which was exactly what he was, Kurt thought.

“I can’t. I’m serious Kurt. I can’t take it. I’ll die.”

“Silly boy. Nobody’s ever died from not being able to come.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if that was actually possible, they would have warned us about it in dom class.”

Kurt kept circling. He knew the stimulation in that one oversensitive spot had to be too much for Blaine to stand for long. And sure enough, little grunts began to escape Blaine’s throat – stifled cries of painful pleasure.

“Although now that I think of it . . .”

At just the hint of potential mercy Blaine went still and silent, despite Kurt’s still-teasing finger.

“You have been a very good boy lately . . .”

“Oh god, please Kurt . . .”

“And you’ve suffered so much tonight.”

“Anything. I’d suffer anything for you.”

“I suppose I could be a tiny bit merciful.”

Blaine sucked in a breath. “A . . . tiny bit?”

“I’ll tell you what, Blaine. I’ll let you have a fractional orgasm.”

Blaine’s face twisted as he tried to decide whether that was good or bad. Kurt had to suppress the desire to laugh.

“A fraction . . . ? That’s not a thing.”

“I just made it up,” Kurt said. “An orgasm in fractions.”

“I can’t – math – right now.”

“It’s easy.” Kurt wrapped his hand around Blaine’s erection and for the first time all night gave him a long, full, tight stroke, twisting over his head and slipping back down to the root. A shudder rippled through Blaine’s body and he moaned long and low.

“You’re feeling pleasure, right?”

Blaine could only nod.

“Pleasure without release. That’s one half of an orgasm. Now you just need the other half.”

Blaine got there before Kurt said it and his head began to shake, at first just a tremble but it grew into forceful negation. “No, Kurt, I can’t, I take it back, just lock me up, please, I can’t stand it . . .”

“You’ll stand what I tell you to stand,” Kurt said, and his hand began to fly.

These were the moments Kurt loved most. Watching Blaine at his most extreme, babbling, trembling, his cock never flagging no matter how hard Kurt pushed him. He fucked up into Kurt’s hand. He knew what was coming, he dreaded it, but his body was beyond his control. It was reveling in the pleasure, and ignoring the other half of Kurt’s equation. He whimpered in rhythm with his hips, up and down, up and down, his pleasure building. Kurt watched him try to hold himself back, so obvious in his attempt to hide how close he was. But Kurt was too much of a Blaine expert to ever be fooled. After so many weeks of denial Blaine was on the edge in seconds. And at just the right moment Kurt smacked Blaine’s glans then snatched his hand away.

Blaine cried out and his body bowed up from the bed, thrusting in a sharp, violent arc, using everything he possessed to try to force himself over the edge. But it was a battle he couldn’t win. Instead of the spurting explosion he craved, white fluid bubbled in his slit and dribbled pathetically down his twitching, pulsing cock. He held himself taut until the last of it trickled away, then he fell back, boneless, and started to cry.

“And release without pleasure. The other half,” Kurt said as he stretched out alongside Blaine and took his lover in his arms. "Put the two halves together and it's almost like a real orgasm."

Blaine clung like a child, burying his head and his tears in Kurt’s chest.

“A fractional orgasm.” Kurt pulled a blanket over Blaine’s shivering body and stroked his hair. “I like it. That really should be a list item in _Domming for Dummies_. Top tricks for every dominant Groomzilla. Do you think I should write and suggest it?”

Blaine didn’t answer. His tears were tapering off and his body draped lax and heavy over Kurt. Kurt, mercifully, let it go. He held his boy and rocked him to sleep.


	7. Genuine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sidetracked by Hamilton last night - amazing, by the way - so at the moment I'm a day behind but I'm going to do everything I can to get caught up! Promise!

“I honestly, truly, genuinely can’t do it.”

Kurt didn’t answer. He just sat on the couch, staring at Blaine.

“I’m serious, Kurt. This isn’t a heat of the moment thing. This isn’t me being desperate to come. It’s just too much. All I think about is sex. I wake up humping the bed – or you – or trying to jerk myself . . . I'm leaking so much I'm afraid to face the girl at the dry cleaners. I’ve really thought about it and this is me, calmly, rationally saying it’s too much. It’s three more months to the wedding and I can not do it.”

Still nothing from Kurt, who only watched.

 “I know I did four months with the play that time, but that was my limit, Kurt. I want to be good for you and give you this but it’s too much. Every time you touch me I want to explode. But I can’t explode and then I remember that I won’t get to explode for months and – it may be literally making me insane. I’ve never needed release like this. Just . . . we have to stop.”

For another long moment Kurt didn’t speak, and Blaine held his breath and tried very hard to keep his expression resolute. No negotiations. No bargains. He had reached the breaking point and he was not backing down.

“That was a lot of words,” Kurt finally said. “And while you’ve certainly made your position perfectly clear, I have to point out that in all those words you said, one particular word was conspicuous in its absence.”

Blaine felt himself deflate. Literally. Poked like a balloon, the resolve drained out of him leaving him flat. If anyone had been watching they would no doubt have laughed their ass off as he wilted down into his corner of the couch.

Safeword. That was all it would have taken. Three little syllables that would have guaranteed him instant relief. He’d spent all morning shoring up his arguments and choosing just what words to say to Kurt, but not once had it occurred to him to simply safeword. And he’d been doing this long enough to know – just as Kurt unquestionably did – exactly what that meant.

He could say it now, of course, but he knew himself too well – and was too committed to honesty – to deny what should have been obvious all along. He felt a sudden urge to apologize to his dick. _Sorry, buddy. My fucking subconscious has screwed us over again._

His trapped dick gave a sympathetic surge.

When he looked back up he found Kurt watching him with a concern that the twinkles in his eyes belied. But he put on a good show. He took both of Blaine’s hands in his and squeezed them. “Do you remember telling me ages ago about what you’d always wanted from your ideal dominant?”

“You’re my ideal dominant.”

“But before we met. When you fantasized. You said you wanted someone who’d help you find new depths of obedience and sexual submission.”

Blaine couldn’t help smiling. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“The thing is, that’s not a one-time thing, Blaine. There’s no threshold you reach that you don’t get pushed beyond. I ask too much of you, and you deliver. And then I ask even more. And I don’t mean specifically with chastity. It’s all of it. Submitting your will to me and doing your very best to go where I want you to go.”

“I know, of course I know all that.”

“And our wedding is a time to deepen our commitment in all the ways, right?”

Blaine groaned. “I get it. Your logic is unassailable. It’s just hard!”

“Do you want to know what I honestly, truly, genuinely know?”

“That I can do it?”

Kurt shook his head. “We both know that. We’ve known that all along." He scooted closer and put a hand on Blaine's chest, over his heart. "I know that when you’re lying in bed the night before our wedding, when you know it’s almost over and you can finally relax and _feel_ – you’re going to understand all of this. You’re going to see what it’s done to you and your submission and you’re going to be so proud of yourself, and so excited. I know you, Blaine. This massive, amazing thing you’ve done, it’s going to hit you all of sudden and the first thing you’re going to want to do is run to me but you won’t be able to, of course. You’ll have to hold it all in for just one more night and then when you come down that aisle and see me . . . when we vow and kiss and dance and sing . . . and later, when we’re finally alone . . . It won’t be our first time but it’ll still be new and different and intense and I want that for us.”

It took Blaine a minute to realize that Kurt was waiting for him to speak. He was too wrapped up in the image in his head, alone with his dominant, kneeling for the first time as a husband, the cage slipping away . . .

“Us? What’s new and different for you?”

“Are you kidding me? After six months of denial?” Kurt grinned and pulled Blaine into his arms, cuddling him tight. “I can’t wait to hear the noises you’ll make, and watch the way you twist and shudder. I want to worship you from head to toe, I want to find out if you’ll beg me to get you there as fast as possible or to make it last until you just can’t stand it anymore. And I seriously want to know how many times I can make you come before you finally beg me to stop.”

Blaine burrowed his face in Kurt’s shoulder. “How do you always manage to make it better and worse at the same time?” he said into Kurt’s shirt.

“Natural dominant,” Kurt said happily. “And perfect fiancé.”


	8. Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a day behind but I know you all won't complain!

“Repeat it back to me.”

Halfway to the door, Blaine sighed and turned back to where Kurt lay on the bed. He pushed away the urge to remind his fiancé that he had no less than two master’s degrees. Kurt was sick, and Blaine had to be patient.

“Can’t we just video chat when I get there?”

“And risk Giovanni seeing me like _this_?” Kurt’s hand fluttered in front of his damp, flushed, swollen face.

“I’m sure I can keep the phone facing . . .”

The look on Kurt’s face stopped Blaine cold.

“Right,” Blaine said brightly, without a hint of irritation. “White orchids, lavender roses, cream hydrangeas. Greens of their choice but no baby’s breath whatsoever, on pain of death.”

“Painful, torturous death,” Kurt clarified. His congestion wreaked havoc with his consonants, but that only made him sound more threatening. _Cross me and die._

“On eighteen-inch gold stands with crystal accents.”

“They’re the first picture in the binder. You have the binder, right?”

“I have the binder. I have everything. You’ve already met with the man twice, Kurt, this is all just a formality.”

Kurt grabbed a tissue and blew his nose hard. “Nothing is ever just a formality when it comes to our wedding. What kind?”

“What kind of what?”

“Orchids. What kind.”

Blaine took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Phalaenopsis.”

“Spell it.”

“Kurt! I don’t have to know how to spell it. He already knows what you want!”

But Kurt’s eyes narrowed above his red, swollen nose, and his mouth set in a stern line below it. The three features combined were so comical Blaine had to remind himself not to laugh. He valued his physical safety too much for that.

“Fine. P-h-a-l-a-e –”

“Wait!” Kurt said as he grabbed for another tissue. He sneezed – once, twice, then a third and fourth time in quick succession. He dropped the tissue into the trash can by the bed and plucked another from the box. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, as gently as he could. He took a few steps toward the bed but Kurt waved him off.

“Get back! This is a critical time. At least one of us has to be healthy or my whole timeline falls apart.”

Blaine sighed and took a few steps back. “Kurt,” he tried again, “in just a few weeks we’re going to get married and we’re going to vow to love and keep each other in sickness and in health. And in your case right now that means that in _your_ sickness you have to trust me to do what you can’t. Giovanni knows exactly what you want. I’ll text you pictures of all his samples. I’ll text you video. You can call me and pick over every detail and no one will ever have to see your Rudolph nose. But for now can you just trust me to go and take care of this? Please?”

All the sharpness drained out of Kurt’s expression and he fell back on his pillow, finally looking like he must have felt – exhausted, anxious, and well and truly ill. “Yes,” he said, sounding anything but sure. “I will. I can.”

“You have to. I love you and I’m going to make sure it’s all perfect.”

Kurt nodded and took yet another tissue, and Blaine turned for the door. This time he made it three quarters of the way.

“Blaine!”

He turned back.

“Please?”

He smiled. He couldn’t help it. Happily, for the sake of Blaine's health, Kurt didn’t seem to mind. “N-o-p-s-i-s.”


	9. Inch

Blaine went down fast. His eyes started to lose focus when Kurt pulled him over his lap, before the first slap even fell. Ten smacks in and all the tension had bled out of his body; he hung limp across the bed, and his soft, needy moans blurred together into one long satisfied note. By the time the spanking was over Kurt was swimming in guilt. He’d been so busy with the wedding, and Blaine had supported him every step of the way, and he’d never even noticed how badly his submissive needed his attention. By the time the last slap was echoing in the air, Kurt knew that the quick spanking he’d planned was never going to be enough for either of them. Blaine was too far gone, and Kurt couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He wasn’t prepared for a big production, but Kurt excelled at improvisation. Which was how they’d ended up here, with Blaine on his knees, his cuffed scrotum tethered to a point on the wall, straining against the chain that held him back from Kurt’s cock. Kurt sat on the floor, idly stroking his shaft, just inches out of the reach of Blaine’s mouth.

“Maybe you don’t want it after all,” Kurt teased.

“I do, I want it so much,” Blaine whined.

“It’s only two more inches, baby.”

Blaine pushed himself forward, heroically, crying out at the pain in his heavy, swollen balls, but though he gained a good inch, he was still short. He stuck his tongue out and tried to lap at the head of Kurt’s cock, but he was too far away to taste what he craved.

“Oh well,” Kurt said, casually, like it didn’t even matter, “I suppose I can just go finish myself off in the bathroom . . .”

“No! No please, I can do it, please I need it so much.” Blaine’s body trembled, but it wasn’t from the pain. His dark eyes were burning with love and desire and gratitude. He was lost in his submission; nothing existed for him except the pain in his body and Kurt’s enticing dick. “I can do it. I’ll do anything for it.”

“Well it’s right here. If you want it you just have to come get it. I don’t have all night you know. I want to come, and it doesn’t really matter to me whether it’s on your face or not.”

Blaine took a deep breath and shoved himself forward once again. His hands clenched into fists and sweat broke out on his brow but his cry was one of triumph, not agony, as he closed that final inch and his tongue brushed the slit of Kurt’s cock.

Kurt was too aroused by Blaine’s performance to tease anymore. He fisted his shaft while Blaine’s tongue tickled his glans, and in moments his release was spurting white all over Blaine’s straining face. Blaine cried out with each surge, as if he was the one who was coming, and when it was finally over his tongue still moved, gently, licking away every drop that it could reach. He didn’t back off until Kurt stroked his hair and whispered, “Good boy.” Then he fell back with a cry that was all pain this time, collapsing on his side once the pressure was off his balls.

Blaine nuzzled and clung as Kurt freed him and cleaned him and took him to bed. He didn’t speak until they were snug under the covers, his head pillowed on Kurt’s chest.

“Please tell me we’ll do that again soon,” he murmured against Kurt’s skin.

“I promise,” Kurt whispered back. “I know I was neglecting you –”

“No!”

“Hush,” Kurt said. “I was. I don’t think you’ve ever gone under that fast. I barely touched you, Blaine. Next time you get that needy you have to tell me.”

“Well you’ve been so busy with the wedding . . .”

“Are you implying that I can’t pull off the social event of the season and keep my submissive satisfied at the same time?”

“You can.” Blaine smiled sleepily up at Kurt. “Because you’re perfect.”

Kurt knew that was the afterglow talking, but he wasn’t about to quibble. “Exactly.”


	10. Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catching up! Hopefully I'll pump out a couple more today . . .

“Is that really the best idea?” Kurt asked. He tried to keep his voice even, light, not a tiny hint of the real alarm he felt inside.

“What do you mean?”

Kurt studied Blaine’s face. He couldn’t quite tell if the question was sincere or if Blaine was teasing him.

“Sam Evans?”

“He is one of my best friends. And he’s the first one of your friends who opened up to me. You’ve said yourself that he helps me not be so buttoned-up and serious.”

“I have,” Kurt said, choosing his words oh so carefully, “but is that a reason to ask him to be your best man? I mean, it’s your _best_ man.”

“Aside from you of course,” Blaine said in a blatant attempt at distraction, complete with batting eyelashes.

Kurt ignored the eyelashes. This was his wedding, after all. “Maybe someone closer to your own age?”

“ _You’re_ invoking the age thing? Really?” Blaine said. “Sam is just as much of an adult as you are now.”

“Is he though?”

“Kurt! I have left every detail of this wedding up to you. Happily. But I get to pick my best man, and I pick Sam.”

Kurt took a nice, deep, calming breath. But it didn’t make him feel any calmer. “This is Sam we’re talking about. Sam making a toast at our wedding. In front of our families . . . my dad, _your_ dad, you don’t see any potential problems with that?”

“No,” Blaine said, determined to be stubborn.

“Sam planning your bachelor party. _Sam_.”

Blaine’s eyes went wide and he gasped. “Oh my god! You don’t trust me!”

“I do! Of course I do. But, sweetie,” treading oh so carefully again, “you have to admit that you don’t always have the best judgment in things . . . where Sam is involved.”

Blaine shook his head. “This is . . . I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Seriously? Because I have about sixteen examples I could give you just off the top of my head.”

“What am I going to do? My dick is locked in a cage.”

“Blaine Anderson!”

“Well what else –?”

“Good lord, Blaine! I’m not worried about you doing something with another guy and you know it.”

“Then what –?”

“I’m worried about you waking up in some beach shack bar in the Bahamas and missing our wedding!” Kurt pointed a finger at Blaine’s nose. “Look me in the eye and tell me that’s not a distinct possibility.”

Blaine looked Kurt in the eye for several long moments, during which Kurt held his accusing finger in place, determined not to be placated. Finally, Blaine said, “My second choice would be Cooper.”

Kurt’s finger fell. “Sam Evans it is. What could go wrong?”


	11. Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually like to put a little spin on the word, or concept, do something unexpected, try to be clever. But every year they give me at least one word that's such a gimme I have to go with the obvious. ;)

_Click._

The tiny sound of the tiny lock snapping shut echoed in Blaine’s head as it always did, especially when he was blindfolded, and especially these past six months when it was always accompanied by the agonizing and delicious frustration of not having come. After five and a half months of denial, it only took moments for Kurt’s skilled hands to reduce Blaine to a useless lump of quivering, tearful need. And of course, Kurt never stopped after mere moments.

Kurt had said this exercise was to help Blaine find new depths of submission but these past few months had done something to Kurt as well. Freed from the choice to give or withhold, Kurt seemed to have found his own new levels of dominance. He could and did spend hours tormenting Blaine with the tiniest of touches, exploiting each erogenous zone. Delighting in details. A feather tickling Blaine’s nipples, back and forth, for an entire afternoon. A single finger exploring his hole in exhaustive and dizzying detail. On one memorable occasion they’d watched the entirety of The Fellowship of the Ring (extended edition!) with Blaine naked, sprawled across Kurt’s lap, while Kurt stroked his frenulum until Blaine wondered if it was possible to die from sensual torture. Every time they touched Kurt pushed him harder. And every single time, no matter how much his poor cock danced and dripped and begged for relief, in the end Blaine was iced down and locked back up. _Click_.

And truth? Blaine was loving every second of it. Hating it with a fiery passion, but loving it just as fiercely. The eternal submissive oxymoron.

The bed dipped under him as Kurt climbed on and straddled Blaine’s legs, settling his weight on Blaine’s pelvis just above his trapped dick. Blaine felt fingers trace up his chest. They pinched at his nipples until both were pebbled and tight. Then Blaine felt something cool and hard but light brush over his left nub.

“Do you know what that is?” Kurt asked. His voice was so husky it made Blaine’s head swim with sympathetic arousal.

“Please can I make you come now?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you know?”

Blaine shook his head. The light, hard thing moved to tease his other nipple.

“That’s the key. And that’s the last time it’s going to be anywhere near your body until our wedding night.”

“Oh fuck, Kurt.” Blaine meant to groan, it _felt_ like a groan in his head, but even he could hear that it came out more like an invocation to an all-powerful deity.

Kurt laughed. “It’s only two weeks.”

Blaine whimpered.

The key disappeared and Kurt’s fingers came back, teasing his nipples with little pinches. “If it gets too tough you can think about how amazing it’s going to feel to get hard again after a couple of weeks fighting that cage.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’ll help.”

“Then think about the fact that the next person who touches your dick will be your husband.”

All the ice in the world couldn’t have stopped Blaine’s cock from swelling at that. The bars of his cage denied him of course, and familiar pain shot through his dick, his balls, even his asshole clenched against it. But he wanted it, craved it, and when Kurt’s mouth connected with his nipple, hot tongue flicking, he couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around his soulmate and held him in place. He wanted it to go on forever.

He whined when Kurt pulled away. “Don’t stop. It hurts so much.”

Kurt laughed again. “It’s going to hurt a lot more when I fuck you.”

A nudge was all it took. Blaine flipped over, pulled his legs up under himself and arched his back, presenting his ass, inviting, as if Kurt needed an invitation; begging, as if his master cared what _he_ wanted.

Kurt’s mouth touched him again, the back of his neck this time. “This is going to be fun,” he whispered then bit down hard as his slick cock nudged Blaine’s hole and slid home.

Blaine cried out loud, arched, begged, dripped, and thoroughly, one hundred percent agreed.


	12. Limitation

“It’s impossible. I can’t.”

Kurt glanced up from the seating chart spread out on his desk. “What kind of defeatist attitude is that?”

Blaine’s eyes pleaded with him. He knelt with his hands bound behind his back, his balls short-chained to the floor, their vibrating dildo in his ass. His naked body glistened with sweat and his cock strained against the bars of its cage. A pool of clear precome filled the dish Kurt had set underneath it.

“You know . . . how hard it is . . . for me to come in the cage,” Blaine panted.

“I know you’ve done it before.”

Blaine took a breath and held it. He rose as high as he could, pulling the chain that held his balls taut, then slid down again with a shuddering moan.

“That’s my boy,” Kurt chirped. He turned back to his chart. As lovely a picture as Blaine made, he couldn’t afford to get too distracted from the conundrum of where to sit Finn and Rachel in relation to each other. Or not.

“I need more room,” Blaine begged as he rode the dildo. “The chain’s too short. If I could . . . get a decent thrust . . .”

“I’m not loosening the chain. If you need it as badly as you say you do, you’ll come.”

“Kurt! I _can’t_!”

Kurt looked up again with a sigh. He took in Blaine’s flushed face and sweaty curls. His cock still leaking nothing but clear fluid. “Of course you can. I don’t understand why you put these limitations on yourself.”

“I don’t understand . . . how you got to be so vicious.”

“Do you wish I wasn’t?”

Blaine bounced faster, throwing his head back. “ _Fuck!_ You know . . . I don’t . . .”

Just to be sure, Kurt hit the remote and turned off the vibe.

“No!” Blaine cried. “Please don’t stop! I need it, I can . . .”

Kurt smiled. Blaine’s honesty was unfailing and often his worst enemy. Blaine was pistoning on the dildo now even without the vibration, showing his master how willing he was, gasping as the upstroke tortured his balls, moaning as the slide down teased his insides.

He deserved a reward for that, Kurt decided. He flipped the vibe back on, up to high, and crossed the room to his boy. Blaine’s eyes were closed. Kurt stroked his brow, smoothing damp curls back from his eyes, then thumbed his nipples and pinched as hard as he could.

Blaine cried out loud at the unexpected pain, bounced twice more then froze, shuddering, moaning, tears dripping from under his eyelids as Kurt worked his nipples.  When he finally quieted, Kurt released him and reached for the dish. The fluid there was now stained milky white. He held it up for Blaine to see.

“There you go. I told you you could do it.”

Like the sight had released something inside him, Blaine fell forward against Kurt’s chest. “I’ll never doubt again,” he panted against Kurt’s shirt.

“You will,” Kurt said, “but I’ll be just as vicious the next time.”


	13. Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M CAUGHT UP!!! Also, schmoop warning!

Blaine opened his eyes.

Kurt hovered above him, just close enough, smiling gently. The mist in Blaine’s head rendered his features soft and comfortably indistinct, like a reflection in a mercury-backed mirror, or a starlet filmed through layers of gauze. He seemed to glow around the edges, an angel come to lead Blaine home.

Blaine was tired – so tired – and he closed his eyes but without Kurt’s face in front of him the pains in his body began to clamor for attention. Some were familiar, his constant companions – aching in his tight, hard balls, the implacable confinement of the steel around his cock – but others were new. His ass burned from Kurt’s belt, his wrists stung from fighting the rope that had bound them. His throat ached from taking Kurt’s dick, over and over down deep, holding his breath until his master allowed him air. So many sensations, too many, they overwhelmed him and with a cry he opened his eyes again.

“Shhhhh,” Kurt said. He was next to Blaine now, on the bed with him, and he stroked Blaine’s face with fingers as soft as spring rain. “Stay here with me for a while.”

His smile, his voice, brought back the mist that muffled Blaine’s body’s babel. Blue eyes, wispy with clouds, searched Blaine’s face and Blaine felt his lips curving upward. “Keep talking to me,” he murmured.

Kurt’s smile grew. “You’re amazing,” he said, slowly, quietly. “I push you so hard and you just go there for me, every single time. I wish you could feel how much it turns me on to watch you struggle and fight to give me everything I ask for. I expect perfection and you always exceed my expectations. Nothing in the world has ever made me as happy as you do. Nothing ever will. My gorgeous Blaine. My soulmate. My almost husband.”

As Kurt spoke Blaine could see the words, translucent as ghosts, floating from Kurt’s mouth. They drifted down to cover his body, wrapping him in warmth and approval. “I love your words,” he said.

Kurt’s lips brushed his, a fairy kiss, and Blaine wanted to reach for more but the weight of Kurt’s words held him tight to the bed, which was fine because he knew he was safe now.

“Try again,” Kurt whispered against his lips.

“Hmmm?”

“Close your eyes.”

Blaine couldn’t have disobeyed if he tried. He didn’t try. He let his eyes drift shut and this time, with the help of Kurt’s words, the mist inside him was strong enough to keep him safe from pain and strain. This time the only sensation he felt was Kurt’s arms wrapping around him, pressing his words into Blaine’s body with the strength of his love and care.

“I love your words,” Blaine said again.

Now the lips were at the back of his neck, brushing warm, and Kurt’s breath tickled his skin.

“Shhhhh.”


	14. Nose

Blaine was almost asleep – he loved drifting off on the couch on lazy Saturday afternoons and those were becoming fewer as the wedding drew closer – when Kurt’s gasp pulled him up to see what on earth could be the matter.

Kurt was sitting at the table going through the mail, so Blaine relaxed.  “Good or bad?” he asked. The only mail-induced gasps Kurt produced these days were those inspired by especially wonderful or especially terrible wedding gifts.

“Paolo,” Kurt said in a faint voice.

Blaine sat full up at that. Kurt’s reactions to the designer were varied and colorful, depending on the situation and his state of mind, but gasping weakness was something Blaine had never seen from him.

“What did he do this time?” he asked.

Kurt looked up and Blaine could see right away that, shocked as he was, he was also deeply excited. He had a large manila envelope in one hand and an equally large glossy brochure in the other. “He got us a suite for our wedding night. And the night after. Two nights.”

“Didn’t you already book something for our wedding night?”

Kurt waved the brochure at Blaine. “This is the Standard High Line. The Liberty Suite.” His voice was still thin and full of awe. “Do you know how much that costs?”

“Do I want to know?”

“More than a thousand dollars a night. It says so right here.”

Blaine grimaced. “Of course it does.”

For the first time Kurt seemed to notice Blaine’s lack of excitement. “This is an amazing gift,” he said, louder this time, with a hint of reproach.

Blaine sighed. He’d tried, he really had, but he just couldn’t bring himself to like the designer. Maybe it was the way Paolo almost never looked at him. Or the way he often looked at Kurt – despite them both being doms. Maybe it was knowing that Paolo spent large amounts of time thinking of ways to visually interpret Kurt’s dominance, and there wasn’t anything Blaine could do about it because it was for the line, and he wouldn’t have anyway because only Kurt could say what he was comfortable with when . . .

“Are you even listening to me?” Kurt asked sharply.

Blaine sighed again and fell back against the couch. “I’m sorry. You know how I get. I can’t help it.”

Kurt came and sat next to him, brochure still in hand. “This is an incredibly generous gift.”

“I know. I just feel like he’s always trying to stick his nose into our lives, and now he’s doing it with our wedding night.”

“He is not sticking his nose into our wedding night. He won’t be there. Just you and me and,” Kurt referenced the brochure, “and _seventy-two strategically placed attachment points scattered across four luxurious rooms_ . . .”

“You think he hasn’t imagined what we’ll do with those?”

Kurt’s mouth twisted stubbornly. “I don’t care if he has! There’s a seven-foot diameter round bed, Blaine. A bathtub for two in front of a glass wall with a view of the Hudson.” He shot Blaine the lopsided smile Blaine could never resist. “I could fuck you against that glass wall . . .”

“What if he rigs it with secret cameras so he can spy on us?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Kurt scoffed.

“I know! I am. I just don’t like the guy. You know that.”

Kurt held the brochure so Blaine could see. “Look at that paneling. That upholstery. The shag carpet. Imagine me on that couch in my green silk smoking jacket with a dry martini . . . Don Draper eat your wannabe dominant little heart out!” Kurt laughed at that, cajoling, and Blaine let himself be cajoled because he _could_ imagine it and, well, _seventy-two strategically placed attachment points_ . . .

“I could make you dress up like a French maid and serve me drinks.”

Blaine smiled at that. “With the cage or without it?”

“Oh definitely without. The whole point of a French maid outfit is to see your nice hard dick poking out from under the skirt. While I fuck you. Against the glass wall overlooking the city.”

“I’m becoming more okay with Paolo’s nose,” Blaine admitted breathlessly.

Kurt laughed. “You haven’t seen the best part,” he said. He held out the brochure and pointed to the small print at the bottom.

_Every suite is guaranteed 100% soundproof for our guests’ comfort and security._

“Soundproof?” Blaine asked. His voice was as thin and faint as Kurt’s had been earlier.

Kurt scooted closer so he could whisper seductively. “Which means when I’m forcing that sixth orgasm in a row out of you, you can scream as loud as you want and nobody will hear a thing.”

“It’s really such a nice nose . . .”


	15. Orgy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is the prompt orgy?? How does that happen??

“Mazel Tov!”

Kurt opened the door to a Hebrew blessing and a face full of confetti. He grimaced as Lars and Bruce joined the ever-growing crowd in their living room.

“Who’s going to clean all this up?” he asked as he closed the door.

Lars made a beeline for Blaine, who was talking to Finn, and wrapped his arms around him from behind, turning him to face Kurt. “Our Blainey is of course. You can make it part of his punishment for what is about to go down tonight.”

“And what might that be?”

A chorus of submissives shouted him down, including Bruce, who rarely spoke even when he wasn’t in full pup mode.

Lars released Blaine and took the glass of champagne Rachel offered him with a smile. “Oh no, honey,” he said to Kurt. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. And even I don’t dare defy all these subs in full bachelor party frenzy.”

“Sam!” Kurt shouted.

Sam’s head popped out over the kitchen island. “Don’t worry, Kurt. I promised not to break any of your four edicts and I absolutely won’t.”

“Wait,” Blaine said. “Edicts?”

“I . . . may have asked him to follow a few . . . guidelines,” Kurt stammered.

“Are you kidding bro? You made me memorize them!” Sam counted them off on this fingers. “No travel outside the five boroughs, no immersion above the knee in any outdoor bodies of water, no ingesting anything that most reasonable people wouldn’t consider food or drink, and no orgies.”

“You gave Sam edicts for my bachelor party?”

Before Kurt could answer Nathan raised his voice over the general conversation. “Sam, you must have missed my text. The orgy’s back on.”

“Settle down, dear,” Sean told his boyfriend. “Nobody here wants to see you naked.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Nathan grinned in Finn’s direction. “This straight boy looks like he’s always wanted to know how it would feel to get a blow job from someone who actually knows what he’s doing.”

Finn just smiled. He’d met Nathan before and was apparently prepared.

“Why don’t you go check and see if the limo’s here,” Sean suggested.

“He’s not denying it,” Nathan said, but he let himself be pushed out the door.

Blaine stepped closer to Kurt, a dangerous glint lighting his eyes. “Edicts?”

“Oh come on, Blaine. You can’t tell me you aren’t worried about what I’ll be doing tonight too. You can make some edicts of your own if you want.”

“Please. Rachel planned your party.”

As always when her name was invoked, Rachel appeared at Kurt’s elbow right on cue. “What is that supposed to mean? I can be edgy too you know. You have no idea what kind of crazy, irresponsible hijinks I have arranged for.”

“Really?” Blaine asked. “Is it anything crazier than eating a week’s worth of calories in cheesecake?”

Rachel made a face at him, but she didn’t respond.

“Well?” Blaine pressed Kurt.

“Blaine, you know I trust you but –”

“But this is really about me,” Sam said. He scooted around Jack, who was whispering last-minute instructions to his husband/slave Caleb, and gripped Blaine by the shoulder. “Dude, I actually agree with him. I have been known to occasionally go overboard on the fun, and not think about consequences, and you know, all us subs, letting loose with no doms around, it doesn’t hurt to have a few guidelines to keep us from going wild.” He looked at Kurt. “So don’t worry. All of your rules will be obeyed. No travel, no water, no weird eats, and absolutely no orgy.”

“Maybe.” It was Bruce this time, passing behind Blaine and growling in his ear. Kurt gaped at him, then at Lars who was watching his pup like he’d never been prouder of him.

The apartment door opened again. “The limo has arrived!” Nathan announced. “All submissives follow me!”

Champagne glasses were drained and half the room made for the door. Kurt caught Blaine’s arm before he could leave and pulled him aside. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a bad fiancé. Do whatever you want. Have fun.”

“I was going to anyway,” Blaine said, and he pecked a kiss on Kurt’s nose. “You have fun too.” He turned to go, calling out “Enjoy your cheesecake!” as the door shut behind him.

“Sometimes I hate him,” Rachel muttered.

Sean put an arm around Kurt. “We have to let them fly eventually,” he said with exaggerated gentleness. “And, if it helps, I’m at least seventy-five percent sure Nathan doesn’t really want to suck your brother’s dick.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, sixty,” Sean amended. “But it’s a very firm sixty.”

“Somebody bring me some cheesecake.”


	16. Perform

Thank the gods for Lars.

Pouring on southern charm the way only he could, he’d commandeered the sound system, turning show tunes to classic rock, raided the liquor cabinet to add options to the champagne and white wine Rachel had planned, and even managed to convince her that charades would be much more fun later when everyone was drunk. That plus Rachel’s admittedly delicious hors d’oeuvres and the two hundred dollar bottle of Scotch Paolo had sent instead of attending, and Kurt had to admit that his bachelor party was rocking in a way he’d never expected.

“Don’t worry,” Lars said as he dropped on the couch next to Kurt. “Give me another couple of hours and I’ll get her to upgrade charades to strip poker. Or at least spin the bottle. There’s a few guys here I wouldn’t mind putting a free lip-lock on.” He grinned and bumped Kurt’s shoulder with his own. “Although we might descend into our own orgy before then, huh? Who knew what a little Scotch could do to our oh-so-mature Jack?”

Kurt grinned at Jack, who was wrapped around one of Kurt’s assistants from the studio in a steamy Lambada. “He has to be responsible all the time,” he said. “It’s good to see him let go.”

“You could take a lesson from him,” Lars said.

Rachel plopped down in the chair on Kurt’s other side. “A lesson from whom?” she asked.

“You, sweetheart,” Lars drawled without skipping a beat. “This is a fantastic party.”

“Well I only want –”

She was interrupted by Kurt’s phone, chiming a text from the coffee table. Kurt reached for it but Rachel snatched it first. “No phones, Kurt! This is your bachelor party! No interruptions.”

Fortunately, the I-will-murder-you-with-my-bare-hands look Kurt had perfected in high school was still just as effective as ever.

 _SECRET MESSAGE FROM SUB CENTRAL IN 3-2-1 . . ._ the text from Sam screamed.

“What’s this?” Lars asked. “Do you have a mole with the subs?”

Kurt shook his head. “I swear, I don’t know anything about this.”

The phone chimed again, and the frozen image of Sam’s face popped up.

“Is that a video?” Rachel jumped from the chair to the couch, shoving Kurt over closer to Lars.

Kurt poked at the screen. The icon enlarged and sound burst out of the tiny speakers. People talking, dishes clinking, the opening strains of a song building over it all.

“No, please god not that again!” someone complained loudly.

“I could be killed for what I’m about to show you,” Sam whispered dramatically from the phone. The image swung away from his face to capture what was obviously a club of some kind. The first recognizable thing was Nathan, sitting on Finn’s lap with an arm around Finn’s ample shoulders. Finn looked remarkably relaxed for a straight man with a gay submissive hanging all over him, although he did flinch a bit when Nathan yelled, “I will pay you not to sing that song again. I’m so fucking serious right now!”

The camera moved on as the music played. A small stage came into view, then a clearly drunk Blaine with a microphone in his hand, then an equally drunk . . . Bruce? Bruce with his own microphone, glitter sparkling in his beard, making gentle noises – muskrat noises, Kurt finally understood – into the mic.

Kurt looked up long enough to raise an eyebrow at Lars.

“What? Bruce excels at many different animal sounds.”

Blaine’s voice drew Kurt’s attention back to the screen. Yes, Blaine was drunk and his words slurred and slipped around each other, but neither alcohol nor lame songs could make a Blaine Anderson performance anything less than electric.

_“Muskrat, muskrat, candlelight . . .”_

Bruce trilled another muskrat endearment.

The image shifted and Sam’s face filled the screen again. “The subject insists on singing this song over and over,” he said in an accent that might have been attempting to be Scottish. “None of our operatives have been able to understand why. But all admit it has an unexpected charm.”

Another visual swerve to Caleb and Rachel’s husband Tim, sitting with their arms around each other, swaying to the muskrat groove.

“Kill me now!” Nathan yelled off screen.

Another swing past Bruce and Blaine – _“And they whirl and they twirl and they tango . . .”_ – past Nathan feigning loss of consciousness on Finn’s lap, and back to Sam’s close-up face. “Almost all,” he said in a different accent altogether. “Many Bothans died to bring you this video. This message will self-destruct in ten seconds. So maybe hand your phone to Rachel before then. Ten . . . nine . . .”

Lars put his arm around Kurt as the screen went black. “It’s just as I feared. No amount of alcohol or bachelor frivolity can take the dork out of our Blaine. Now will you relax and have a drink? Or are you too worried Nathan’s going to convert your brother?”

“Finn can’t be converted. Believe me, I tried.”

“Kurt!” Rachel squeaked.

“Ooh! I’m going to need you to tell me that story,” Lars leered.

“Bring me Scotch and another slice of cheesecake and I will tell you a tale to curl your hair.”

“Baby, you don’t need to ask me twice.”

Lars headed for the bar, Rachel for the kitchen. Kurt turned his phone back on again, just for a second, just long enough to send one quick text.

_Thanks._


	17. Raw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had so much fun writing little sweet/funny/hot things that I almost forgot how it feels to put a bunch of words together and have no idea if they do what you wanted them to do or communicate what you need to communicate. But you give me a prompt like "raw" and what am I supposed to do? Hopefully there's some sense in here . . . :)

They called it _raw_.

Fucking bare, fucking rough, pulled up on your knees, face in the mattress, pounded from behind. Animal noises forced out of your chest by the hot, hard dick taking pleasure in your body. Taken. Used. Consumed.

Blaine fucking loved it.

He loved all their sex, of course, but this, now, especially now when his dick had gone half a year without release and half a month without a touch, when he was so close to his pinnacle achievement, and his freedom, and his marriage that he could feel them all crowding close to his sweating body, now when Kurt’s punishing thrusts were the only thing that could wipe out the constant gnawing in his guts, Blaine craved it with a new kind of violence.

He wasn’t tied, but his arms stretched above his head to ground himself against the headboard. His cock fought the cage valiantly, throbbing, leaking. His balls screamed as Kurt’s body smacked into them. His lungs gasped for sobbing breaths. When they fucked like this – and this was always how they fucked lately – each thrust transformed Blaine; each one isolated different sensations in turn, pleasure, pain, desire, exhaustion. He was twisted inside-out and left gulping and shuddering like a fish stranded on land.

They called it raw because that’s how Kurt’s cock left his body, his heart and his soul. It sought its pleasure unconcerned for his extremis. He was an object to be used and Kurt used him without remorse, more and more freely the closer they got to the wedding. Kurt pushed and tested and shaped him, beyond anything he’d ever thought he could endure. But he had endured. Kurt demanded more faith, more trust, deeper submission, and Blaine gave him all he asked for and more. He laid himself bare, open and vulnerable to the very core of his being.

Raw.

Blaine arched his back until Kurt’s thrusts battered his prostate, took his lover’s body inside his own, skin to skin, over and over and over as the heat built between them. Friction burned him from the inside out, emptying him, reducing him to a vessel. Nothing more. Kurt’s hand landed between his shoulder blades and pressed him into the bed. The restraint accentuated his objectification but his master’s touch also focused his purpose. The months of denial, abasing his flesh and mortifying his desire – this was the end Kurt had been seeking. To empty Blaine utterly, cleanse and purify him like the Lenten fast, and prepare him to meet Kurt anew on their wedding day, ready to be filled again. In a flash he understood, and understanding changed everything. Suddenly there was no need or desire or dragging pain. There were no goals or days to count. He was nothing, no one, Kurt’s.

He felt himself go still under Kurt’s onslaught. His cries quieted and his hands fell soft onto the sheet. Heat that had burned banked to warm. Pleasure softened and melted through his veins, carried to his fingers and toes. And then he began to float.

He was sure his eyes were closed yet he could see himself offered up to his master’s relentless fucking. He could see his caged cock dangling between his legs, blood-dark and desperate to swell. He saw his ass stretching around the thick of Kurt’s shaft as it pierced him. He saw tears falling from under his lashes, gently, with no effort on his part, as though Kurt’s dick itself was pushing them from his body as it pushed the slick fluid from his bound cock.

He saw himself, and he was perfect.

Kurt arched, then bowed down over Blaine as he came, and Blaine fell back into his body, still unmoving, still silent, tears tickling his face as he received his master’s release.

*     *     *     *     *

“I get it,” Blaine said later, as they lay in each other’s arms.

“What?”

“This . . .” Blaine waved a hand at his own body, hoping Kurt would understand. “I get it now. I know why you wanted it.”

Something flashed bright and hot in Kurt’s eyes, but he closed them, took a breath, then gently kissed Blaine’s lips. “And how do you feel?” he asked softly.

Blaine smiled. “Perfect. I’m absolutely perfect.”

Kurt smiled back. “In every single way.”


	18. Stir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! Had to sing the Messiah last night so I didn't get an Advent done but I have two for you tonight! :)

They almost made it. For two straight weeks Kurt had managed to keep the peace between his co-best-persons, thanks to a precise schedule that kept Finn and Rachel busy and, more importantly, always in separate places, while still being useful to him. All they had to do was get through the wedding rehearsal, the dinner afterward, and the ceremony itself. Once Kurt and Blaine were officially joined in matrimony with the people they cared most about standing up for them, Finn and Rachel could rip into each other as much as they wanted.

 _So close,_ Kurt thought as Rachel’s stage-trained voice projected above the rehearsal dinner chatter.

“Because, Finn, you could never get over the fact that I wasn’t your soulmate!”

The noise level in the room dropped dramatically as people craned to see what was going on.

“No, that was you. _You_ could never get over the fact that you weren’t my soulmate.”

Kurt had been visiting the parents’ table, making small talk with Burt and Carole, and Blaine’s mom and dad. He half rose from his chair but Burt grabbed his arm.

“Don’t son. This has been brewing for a while. Let them work it out.”

“Of course it was _my_ fault!” Rachel sang out. “Because nothing could ever be your fault. You’d have to actually choose to do something in order for anything to be your fault.”

Kurt shrugged off his dad’s hand. “This is not happening. Not now.” He rose and spun . . . and kept on spinning as an arm hooked with his and used his own momentum to pull him all the way around the parents’ table and across the room – directly away from where he’d intended to go. As he approached the exit Kurt saw several things in quick succession. Sam sprinting toward Rachel’s table, his dad and Carole rising, Rachel’s husband Tim looking up white-faced from where he stood talking to Nathan, who, as they passed, morphed into full bitch face and dragged Tim toward the fray. And last, the black curls on the back of the head of the man pulling him. Kurt tried to dig his heels in and resist but Blaine had moved too fast and by the time Kurt’s legs started obeying him they were out the door of the private dining room and halfway down the corridor to the bathrooms.

“Let me go!” Kurt called, too loud, because they were practically running.

Blaine maneuvered Kurt around so his back was against the wall then caged him in his arms.

“I’m serious, Blaine. I’m not letting Rachel ruin this.”

“Rachel isn’t going to ruin anything,” Blaine said. His face was as unyielding as his body. “I don’t want you fighting with her. Not tonigh.”

“I’m not going to fight with her. I’m going to kill her.”

“She’s just trying to stir up trouble . . .”

“Why?! She’s with Tim now. Her soulmate. What is wrong with her?!”  Blaine raised his eyebrows and even in his anger Kurt had to smile. “. . . he asked himself for the six millionth time . . .” he said with a sigh.

“You already know the answer to that,” Blaine said. “Rachel always needs to think she’s the most important person in everyone’s life. She loved Finn and she never got over the fact that she could never be that for him."

“They broke up years ago! She’s married, she’s a mother. Why is this happening now?”

Blaine shrugged. “Maybe because she’s not the center of attention right now. Or maybe it gets harder on her the longer it takes for Finn to find his soulmate. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe she’s afraid that it’ll happen now, maybe tomorrow even, and she’ll have to be there and watch him meet her.”

“But she’s –”

“I know she has Tim now, and she loves him, but you’re the one who told me that Rachel’s not exactly the kind of person to get over things easily. Or at all.”

Kurt sagged against the wall. “You’d think she could put her drama aside for two days so that . . . and I just heard how ridiculous that sounds. Because this is Rachel.”

“Exactly.”

“So I’m just supposed to let them ruin our night?”

“No,” Blaine said gently. He cupped Kurt’s face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “There’s a room full of people in there who love you, and me, and who want us to have a perfect wedding just as much as we want it for ourselves. And right now a very large number of those people are telling Rachel and Finn to shut up, smile, and make nice until we are legally wed. Some are probably even threatening. And by some I mean Nathan.”

Kurt leaned into Blaine’s hand – it felt so nice – but he only allowed himself a moment to enjoy it. “I can’t just stand here, Blaine. I have to make sure nothing –”

“That’s not your job tonight,” Blaine interrupted. He stepped closer to Kurt, pressing him to the wall so he couldn’t get away. “Rachel has Tim. Sam’s there for Finn. There’s your dad and Carole and Rachel’s dads. They’ll handle it. Everyone wants this to be perfect for us. Your job,” Blaine brought his other hand up to hold Kurt’s face still, “is to stay here and make out with me until Sam texts me the all clear. Because we’re getting married tomorrow. We’re supposed to be having the time of our lives. And you’re only supposed to be stressing about the six hundred other things you’re stressing about. So shut up and . . .”

Blaine’s lips caught Kurt’s and coaxed them open. For a moment Kurt clung tight to Blaine. The urge – no, the _need_ – to wade in and fix things and make sure nothing could go wrong was powerful, and as hard for Kurt Hummel to let go of as Finn was hard for Rachel Berry. But then Blaine’s tongue teased at Kurt’s bottom lip, and it tickled, and he gasped and giggled and then he knew, as he opened properly to Blaine’s embrace, that his fiancé was right. Tonight was for _them_ , as much as tomorrow was. He needed to be present for Blaine and Blaine needed to be able to trust that he was. For once, just once, he needed to let go.

A gentle buzz sounded from Blaine’s jacket pocket and Blaine pulled back, but Kurt looped his arms around Blaine’s waist and held him fast.

“I didn’t hear anything, did you?”

Blaine’s grin was full of relief and love. “Not a thing.”


	19. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more for today! Warnings for sounding, schmoop, and excessive abuse of religious symbolism . . .

“Don’t talk.”

“But –” Kurt began.

Blaine pressed his fingers to Kurt’s mouth. “I’m serious. Everything you want to say I already know. I can safeword. I can call you if I need to. Sam and Cooper will be here soon and they’ll take care of me. We’ll see each other tomorrow. You love me. I _know_.”

Kurt searched Blaine’s face, so desperate to be sure. He talked. It was what he did. He was an actor, a singer, a storyteller. And more than that he was a dominant who could never afford to forget his responsibilities.

Blaine smiled like he could hear the wheels turning in Kurt’s head. “We’ve said everything we need to say. We’ve had years, Kurt. Now it’s time for you to just trust me.” Blaine ran a hand through this shower-damp curls then reached for the towel wrapped around his waist. It fell to the floor and he stood naked except for his cage, still smiling. “I want you to stop talking and . . .” he ducked his head and his cheeks blushed pink. When he looked back up at Kurt his golden eyes were full of emotion. “. . . prepare me,” he whispered.

Kurt stared into those eyes for a long time, until the clamoring voices inside him stilled. Blaine simply stood and waited. He didn’t tremble or shudder. The gentle lift and fall of the cage as his cock strained was the only indication that he was even aroused. He was so certain, and his certainty was the final assurance that Kurt needed. Without a word he turned and took up the soft white braided rope from where it was coiled on their dresser.

He wrapped the harness snugly but not too tight, his movements deliberate, ritualistic. He touched Blaine as he moved, little anointings with his fingers and lips. Brushing Blaine’s neck, stroking a nipple, rolling his balls together inside their sac. And through it all Blaine stood still and quiet and completely relaxed. He didn’t look like a man who was only a day away from release after six months of denial. Or a man about to marry the love of his life. He looked like someone who had no expectations at all, except to be right here under his master’s hands, fulfilling his purpose by being Kurt’s.

When the last knot was tied Kurt stepped back and surveyed his work. Blaine’s breathing was even, his smile unchanged despite the glistening precome that had started to leak from the end of his cage.

Words, instructions, reassurances bubbled in Kurt’s throat but Blaine kept smiling and Kurt forced them back. He turned to the dresser again and picked up the tawse.

Blaine had asked for this. He wanted to feel his ass burn all night and ache in the morning. He wanted to walk down the aisle to his husband with each step rubbing raw flesh. He’d dreamed for so many of his years alone, he’d told Kurt, of a simple spanking from his soulmate, and something inside of him needed a well-tanned ass to be part of his wedding experience. Kurt had laughed when Blaine told him that, but now he felt about as far from laughing as a person could get. He felt like he was performing a sacrament. Closing a circle.

Blaine was still watching him and smiling. When Kurt nodded he turned and braced himself on a bedpost, arching his back to thrust out his ass. White rope outlined each cheek and cupped underneath them, creating two perfect targets. Without a warning, Kurt struck.

For the first time ever, they spanked in silence. Kurt didn’t warn or explain and Blaine didn’t cry out. A subdued tremor was his only reaction to each lash. It was as if he was taking all of the stress and pain into his body and holding it there, letting it build like Kurt had built his desire these many months, to explode out at some later date. Blow after blow Blaine shuddered and exhaled, shuddered and exhaled – only once did a tiny groan escape his throat but he pulled himself taller, arched his back harder, and took the next in perfect silence.

When the beating was over Blaine’s legs were trembling and his ass made gorgeous purple contrast to the pure white rope. Kurt knelt right there, ran his fingers over the beaten skin, coaxing another shiver from his lover, and kissed each globe just once, in benediction. Then with hands on Blaine’s hips he nudged him to turn.

Blaine’s cheeks were wet with tears but he was still smiling, eyes shining, still so calm, like an angel. Like he was the one preparing Kurt instead of the other way around. Kurt wanted to jump up and kiss him senseless. He wanted to tell him how impossibly perfect he was. But Blaine reached trembling fingers to stroke his cheek and Kurt held his peace. He got up and returned to the dresser for the last time.

The words crowded now, louder, and ignoring them seemed impossible. He needed to speak, to tell Blaine that he didn’t have to, he could refuse, or take it out if he needed to. That there were directions in the box to make sure it stayed clean after he peed, that he had to be sure to use the sterile lube, oh god, remember the sterile lube from their very first time together . . .

But Blaine had been strong for so long and Kurt owed him this. He slipped the plug from its protective package and drizzled it with the lube. When he turned back Blaine looked, if anything, even more relaxed and content. Kurt crossed the room and knelt again, looked up at Blaine to give him one last chance, then took the cage in his hand and slipped the plug in the opening.

Blaine gasped when the plug touched his slit - the first direct stimulation he'd felt in weeks. Kurt glanced up to find Blaine had wrapped his hands around the post above his head, which was thrown back, neck twisted in straining curve, like an ancient statue of a martyr in ecstasy. Kurt watched him as he slid the plug gently in, as Blaine’s chest deflated in a long, slow exhale that whined at the end when Kurt pulled the steel rod back again until the tip tickled Blaine’s slit.

Slowly Kurt fucked Blaine’s cock, once, and again, and again. The beating hadn’t made Blaine cry out but this must be just as intense in a different way because gasps turned to moans and soon Blaine was moving his hips, oh so slowly and carefully, to meet Kurt’s tiny thrusts – fucking himself on the plug until he couldn’t stand it anymore and one hand fell to grip Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt knew immediately that it was a warning. Blaine was too close to the edge and even a ruined orgasm was more than either of them wanted for him right now. When he slid the plug home and began to screw it into the opening at the end of the cage, Blaine made one more noise, a sigh, the kind of sigh you make when the world is perfect and you can’t imagine ever being happier than you are right this moment. When Kurt stood up Blaine was smiling at him like he’d done something wonderful, and Kurt had to either tell him how amazing he was or kiss him senseless and he couldn’t disappoint Blaine so he went for the kiss.

They made out there, with Kurt’s hands running over the soft rope that wrapped Blaine’s torso, until the doorbell sounded and broke the moment.

“Come in!” Kurt called out, and it felt too loud after all their silence.

Then he picked up Blaine’s cuff from the bed. Blaine knelt and held out his wrist, and Kurt slipped the leather on and buckled it tight. He offered his own cuff and wrist to Blaine, who dropped a kiss on his name before covering it up.

 _Stay here as long as you need to_ , Kurt didn’t say. _They won’t bother you. They know you need your time. They’ll wait for you to come out. Keep breathing. Keep thinking of me. I love you so much I may die from it,_ he didn’t say.

And he knew Blaine heard every word.


	20. Underline

_. . . two chocolates in each box and make sure the bows are tied with the  wide gold ribbon. The white ribbon is for the napkins and please triple check that the florists haven’t put any baby’s breath in anything – when I told him not to he looked at me like I’d gone completely looney and I just know he’s going to try a sneak attack. Remember that table six and table twelve have to be as far from each other as the room will allow and if one is closer to the head table it must be six or Rachel will never let me hear the end of it . . ._

That one was important, Kurt thought, double-underline important . . . didn’t gmail have a double underline? Why in the name of everything holy would they not have . . .

Kurt barely snatched his fingers back before his laptop closed with a snap.

“Dad!”

“What are you doing, Kurt?”

Kurt tried to pry his computer open again but his dad kept one hand on it and held it down. “I’m e-mailing Annie.”

“At midnight?”

“I have to make sure she knows –”

“She knows, Kurt. She’s been working with you for a year now, she knows everything.”

“But –”

“You’re done now Kurt. Everything’s in place. A dozen people are going to be there tomorrow to make sure it’s all exactly what you want.”

“Dad, I have to –”

“Humor your old man for a minute, okay? Come sit with me and let’s talk.”

“I don’t have –”

“Kurt.”

Kurt sighed. It didn’t matter how old he got, that particular tone of voice from his dad always compelled obedience. He pushed back from the desk and let Burt drag him to the couch. He and his parents were sharing a mini-suite for the night. Carole had gone to bed an hour ago but Kurt couldn’t stop the buzzing in his brain, a million details jostling for his attention.

“I don’t really have time for this Dad,” Kurt said as Burt pulled him down to sit.

“You’re getting married tomorrow, Kurt.”

“Exactly! That’s why –”

“That’s why you need to relax. Tomorrow’s going to go so fast. I don’t want you so busy trying to run the show that you miss the whole thing.”

Kurt shook his head. “Have you met me, Dad? This is what I do.”

“Well this is different,” Burt said. “Don’t give me that look. It is.”

“It is, and that’s why I have to make it perfect.”

“What do you hope Blaine is doing right now?”

Kurt stared at his dad. “What does that –?”

“Humor me,” Burt said. “What do you want him to be doing? Drinking with Sam? Memorizing his vows? Sleeping? What?”

No. None of that. The image of Blaine kneeling for his cuff, embraced by soft rope, flashed in Kurt’s mind and he felt his cheeks warm. He hadn’t given any orders, but he knew he didn’t want Blaine carousing or obsessing over what he was going to say. Kurt had spent six months building Blaine’s desire and sharpening the purpose he found in his submission. And now he wanted Blaine to feel all of it one last time before they met tomorrow. He wanted Blaine to be proud of his achievement and their history. He wanted him to wallow in his excitement about tomorrow and the intensity of their bond and the knowledge that for the rest of his life he would never be alone again. He wanted him to be savoring the moment, the silence before the ovation. The dramatic pause before they burst into the world as husbands.

He looked up to find his father watching him, patiently, and whatever Burt saw in Kurt’s eyes made him smile. “And what would Blaine want you to be doing right now?”

But Kurt shook his head. “Blaine would want me to be doing whatever I need to do to feel ready.”

“Ready for what though?” Burt asked. “Your wedding? Or your marriage?”

Kurt found that double-underline he’d been looking for in the way his dad said _marriage_. Subtlety never was Burt’s strong suit. For a moment Kurt could only stare, thinking about all the things he wanted for Blaine but was denying himself. Did he want to face Blaine at the altar still running disaster scenarios in his head? Or did he want to meet his soulmate as open and prepared and full of purpose as he expected Blaine to be?

He fell into his dad’s arms and hugged him tight. “I love you,” he whispered against Burt’s ear.

“Right back at you.”

“I’m going to go bed now,” Kurt said as he pulled back. “I have a lot of things I want to think about.”

Burt grinned. “See you on your wedding day.”

The laptop called to Kurt as he passed to on the way to the bedroom, but he valiantly ignored it and kept walking.

“Hey kid,” Burt called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Want me to send that e-mail for you?”

Relief made Kurt’s knees weak. “Dear god, yes. You’re the best dad ever.”

“Yes I am.”


	21. Variation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close people!

_In the dream, Blaine is playing the piano._

_The song is the first song he ever played for Kurt, years ago after their first night together, after crying and punishment and denial and commitment. The Promenade Sentimentale from that old French movie. Such a simple theme – deceptively simple. Fifteen notes played over and over, basic, elementary. Only the tiniest of variations on each pass, a sharp here, a chord there, dynamics appear one by one, weave around each other then blend together into gentle crescendos until they fall away light as leaves sweeping the ground, unresolved, waiting for another repetition. The keys rise and fall under Blaine’s fingers, moving him. They don’t want to stop and so he keeps playing, as he did on that day long ago, looping through the song over and over._

_He sits on the bench naked except for Kurt’s bondage: the soft white ropes hugging his body, the warm hard steel encasing and invading his penis, which throbs in time with the music._

_“Do you think I need to tune it again?” Kurt asks, and Blaine realizes that he’s standing next to the piano in his gorgeous custom tuxedo, his hair a gravity-defying sweep of perfection._

_“No,” Blaine says. “It’s exactly right. You timed it all perfectly.”_

_He plays without thinking, the melody locked in his muscle memory._

_“I thought I might have pushed it too hard.”_

_Blaine laughs at that. “No! No, Kurt. It never sounded like this before. Listen.”_

_And suddenly, as he plays, each note is three then eight then twelve, all playing in harmony and counterpoint, variations on an endless theme. Blaine stares down at his hands, but he hasn’t grown any extra fingers. No one has joined him on the bench. This is all him, creating impossible music for his soulmate._

_Kurt’s fingers cover Blaine’s and lift them from the keys but the music doesn’t stop. It keeps going, the complexity expanding until sounds that Blaine has never heard before surround and envelop them. Kurt pulls Blaine up and they stand face to face, fingers entwined._

_“What is it?” Blaine asks, voice full of wonder._

_“It’s you, silly.”_

_“How can that be?”_

_“Because I say so,” Kurt says, and when Kurt says it Blaine knows that it’s true. “And I should know. I tuned you myself.”_

_No, Blaine thinks, it was the piano, but when he looks there’s no piano there, they’re standing next to their bed and he’s lying on it, naked, harnessed and caged and sound asleep despite the music filling the room with melody._

_Then the music cuts off, abruptly, caesura, and the room tilts until Blaine is the one lying on the bed, bound, alone, and Kurt is gone, and there’s nothing but a gentle whisper in Blaine’s ear._

_“All you have to do now is sing.”_

*     *     *     *     *

 

When Blaine awoke the sun was shining, birds were singing, and Cooper was banging pans in the kitchen while Sam called out instructions. He was gently bound in soft rope and perfectly rested and all that was left of his dream was the touch of Kurt’s fingers and the echo of an impossible melody.


	22. Width

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it on tumblr but I'll say it here too - I've been so busy with Christmas and this writing every day thing that I haven't had a chance to reply to your comments, but I WILL, I promise, you guys are amazing and making me so happy every day. So thank you, and Happy Holidays! <33

“Are you ready?” Burt asked as the limo pulled up to the curb.

Kurt grabbed his dad’s hand. “I’m nervous. Why am I nervous?”

Carole smiled at him from the facing seat. “You’re getting married, honey.”

“I know but we bonded when I was sixteen. I mean, I was like a baby deer in headlights then, but that’s a bigger commitment.”

“It’s a different commitment,” Carole said. “This is just as big.”

“That doesn’t help me feel any less nervous.”

The door opened and the driver’s hand appeared, ready to help anyone who cared to alight.

“Let’s go in,” Burt said. “I bet you’ll feel better when you see the place.”

The mansion seemed to take up an entire block, its beaux-arts white stone rising several stories over the street. For a moment it seemed too big – how could anything Kurt had planned ever be splendid enough to complement such grandeur? Kurt’s legs trembled dangerously, but then Rachel slipped a hand through his left arm and Finn through his right.

“Don’t worry. We won’t let you fall,” Finn said. “Hell, I’m big enough to just carry you if you need me to.”

“He’s not going to need you to carry him, Finn. He’s just having a moment.”

Kurt smiled his gratitude at Rachel. Her cobalt gown shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, opulent, of course, as everything about this wedding was opulent. He took a deep breath and faced the mansion’s crested doors.

Burt pulled one open and almost collided with Annie, the wedding planner.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” Annie exclaimed. “Blaine’s fifteen minutes behind you. Let’s get you upstairs.”

She hurried them through the grand foyer toward the marble staircase. Kurt would have liked to linger but he’d have time later, he told himself, to take it all in. After he was married. _Married_. His knees shook again and he tightened his grip on his best friends.

“I suddenly feel underdressed,” Carole said faintly, gazing around as they walked.

“I picked your dress,” Kurt reminded her.

“I didn’t say I _was_ , just that it feels that way. I think a queen would feel underdressed in this place.”

“You look beautiful,” Burt told her.

“We all look perfect,” Rachel said. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to see the gallery.” She started up the steps but Kurt stood still and held her back.

“What’s the matter?” Rachel asked.

“The guests will be arriving soon,” Annie prompted. “And Blaine.”

“We’ll be right up,” Kurt said.

Annie pressed her lips together but she turned and climbed the graceful staircase. When she was out of sight Kurt took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

“This is really it,” he said.

“It will be.” Burt pulled Kurt into a hug. “I wish your mom was here.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Kurt smiled at his dad then turned and hugged Carole. “You understand why I didn’t ask you to –”

“Don’t even think about it,” Carole said, smiling. “It’s right to leave that space for her.”

Finn was next, and his hug lifted Kurt’s feet clean off the floor. “The suit!” Kurt protested, but he grinned at Finn when he was back on solid ground. “You were the first one to get behind us,” Kurt said. “Even when you didn’t understand it.”

“You’re my brother,” Finn said. “He made you happy. And he’s never stopped.”

Rachel was last. When Kurt faced her he knew there really wasn’t anything to say. They both sighed the same fond, exasperated, eloquent sigh at the same moment, then both laughed the same rueful laugh. Then they hugged, gently, each careful not to muss the other’s outfit. And laughed again at their mutual consideration.

“I’m about to get married,” Kurt said.

“It’s about time,” Rachel responded.

Without planning it, they all linked arms, Kurt in the middle with Rachel and his dad on one side, Finn and Carole on the other, and climbed the stairs together. All the people Kurt loved most in the world, save one, and all five of them abreast still didn’t fill the width of that splendid curve of white marble.


	23. Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crap! I might actually make it this year . . .

Blaine hovered outside gallery, breathing.

His parents were there with him, and Cooper, and Sam of course, all ready to escort him up the aisle to his groom. He could hear voices rising and falling in hushed chatter from the gallery, and the strains of Pachelbel’s Canon from the harpist. Annie hovered on the other side of the doorway, waiting to give Blaine his cue that Kurt and his family were in place and it was time to go.

Blaine grabbed his mom’s hand with one of his and his dad’s with the other.

“I love you guys, you know that right?”

Blaine’s mom could only nod. His dad squeezed his hand. “Knowing you’re happy is all we’ve ever wanted,” he said softly.

The harpist brought the Canon to a close, paused, then began to pick out the delicate introduction of Come What May. Blaine could hear the shuffling sound of a hundred and fifty people coming to their feet. Annie gave him a thumbs up.

“Time to get married, squirt!” Cooper stage-whispered.

Blaine’s parents moved forward, still holding his hands, but Blaine let them go. “You guys go first,” he said.

“We’re supposed to all go together,” Sam protested.

“I know but . . . I need to do it this way. You guys first. I’ll come behind you.”

Sam frowned at him. “Okay, but if Kurt gets pissed it’s your ass, not mine.”

“Just go.”

Blaine’s mom gave him a quick hug and kiss, then she and his dad moved into the gallery hand in hand. Cooper followed them, with Sam bringing up the rear.

Annie shot Blaine a quizzical glance, but slipped into the gallery after them and took her seat in the back.

Blaine leaned back against the wall. His ass still ached from Kurt’s beating, just as he’d wanted. Kurt’s ropes embraced him and Kurt’s cage restrained him. The suit Kurt had designed hung beautifully on his body. His Kurt was everywhere, around him, inside him.

Years. Fourteen – the years he’d looked at the name on his wrist every morning and every evening, longing for a Kurt Hummel he could only imagine. Eleven – the years between his age and Kurt’s, years that had so terrified him in the beginning that he almost let Kurt slip away. Then there was the year they’d had to live apart, Blaine existing on crumbs when he longed to finally feast. And their years together in New York, learning each other in new ways and building a life together. And now the clock was resetting itself again for them. There would be more years now, counted from this day. Years of Kurt, giving and taking and demanding and testing. Years of bondage and sore asses and pent-up desire and love like he’d never imagined. And Blaine was ready for it all.

A throat cleared, loud enough to reach his ears over the harp. Annie, probably, Blaine thought, and he smiled as he stepped into the entryway of the gallery.

The hall was mirrored, of course. Because if there was a replica of Versailles to be found anywhere in Manhattan, Kurt Hummel was destined to find it, book it, and decorate the crap out of it. Their friends and co-workers filled the seats between Blaine and Kurt but Blaine didn’t see any of them. He didn't see their families gathered around the altar. He only saw Kurt, reflected over and over in the mirrors that lined the gallery. And despite Kurt’s death grip on the proceedings, despite Blaine going off book and messing with the precision timing, not one of the hundred Kurts reflected around Blaine looked exasperated or impatient. They were beautiful, and proud, and as Blaine took his first step down the aisle a hundred reflected Blaines moved with him, each going to meet his soulmate.


	24. Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things.
> 
> First, holy crap I did it! Actually finished the damned Advent, and on time and all. I can't even believe it.
> 
> Second, of course the prompt was zone. Zenith I could have worked with. Zephyr. Zipper I'd have found a way to manage. But zone? Well, our boys are getting married so I let myself cheat and just stick it in. I hope nobody minds.
> 
> And third. Oh God. Pressure much? When it came down to it, all I wanted were their words. I hope it's not too weird, it's just how it wanted to be. And I know there are a lot of expectations on this moment so I hope I didn't fail any of you. If I did, please don't tell me because I'll cry. Here they are, our boys, getting married.
> 
> Also, merry Christmas! <33

“Hi. Oh my god, Blaine. You look amazing. Hi. Okay, breathe. So this is going to sound . . . odd . . . but I have to start by saying how proud I am . . . of myself. And I know that’s self-centered, and not really why we’re here, but I’ve been trying to figure out what I was going to say to you today ever since you proposed and every time I sat down to actually write words, I just . . . saw your face. Always smiling, and always full of love and trust. And I realized that’s almost always the way you look at me. I mean, of course, you have bad days and sometimes – I have no idea how – I piss you off, but . . . most of the time? You look happy. You are happy. And whenever I tried to write these damn vows I just kept seeing your gorgeous, happy face. The thing is, when we first met, I know you don’t like to think about that time, but I was a disaster. I was just going along in my own little clueless zone, my romantic bubble, telling myself that I was dominating you and that everything was perfect. I didn’t really see you. You were miserable. You were pretending as hard as you could but you were scared to death, and I didn’t notice. I didn’t bother to look below the surface.”

“You were sixteen, Kurt. And you’re talking about like two days.”

“Hey, these are my vows. No interruptions. Yes, I was young. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less, to know that you-know-who – I’m not saying his name at my wedding – could see how miserable you were when I was too lost in a romantic haze to even try to take care of you properly.  I said no interruptions! So I made sure to watch. Even after things were better. All through our last year in Lima, and then when we moved here, and when I started modeling. I wasn’t always perfect. Shocking, I know. I got distracted and made mistakes. But the more I watched, the more I realized, you’re happy. I make you feel safe. You trust me to –”

“These are starting to sound like my vows.”

“My _point_ is, I went to dom class. I know that _you_ can’t be really content unless I’m doing my job. So when I see you happy it reminds me that I somehow stumbled my way into being everything that you need.  I know I can be a diva – nobody say a word! – but there’s such a sense of peace in that, Blaine, for me. Maybe it’s a dom thing. But today I’m vowing to you that I will always, always pay attention. I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep you looking as happy as you and all your reflections do right now. I’ll love you and push you and fulfill you. I’ll catch you when you fall and put you back on your feet again. And if things go wrong, I’ll see it, I’ll keep seeing it, always, and I’ll never run away from it. So, Blaine Anderson, I take you as my husband, in good times and bad, sickness and health, as my partner, submissive, best friend, and soulmate, bonded as long as we both shall live.”

“Oh god, Kurt –”

“And I love you! I think I forgot to say that! I love you more than I thought it was possible to love somebody. And now I’m done.”

“That was beautiful.”

“Don’t you dare cry. We made an agreement.”

“I _know_. Okay. Now I have to follow that. Kurt. The first time I ever knelt for you, I was a mess. I was terrified, angry, defeated – you said kneel and I did because my body recognized you right away but my head? God, I was lost. And then the second time I knelt for you, I was . . . like you said. In my own little zone of denial. I was pretending that we could do this, and that we _were_ doing it. I'd waited for you so long and I thought if I wanted it badly enough, I could make it work. I wouldn’t have to look at the hard things. What do they say? Fake it till you make it? I was faking it with everything I had. And then the third time, after it all fell apart thanks to Ke . . . _what’s-his-name_ . . .”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The third time I was trying to do whatever it took to show you that I needed you, even if I didn’t understand why I needed you. I was crying, I think. Begging you to stay.”

“Blaine –”

“No, it’s okay. I want to remember, here, with you, today. In front of everyone. I didn’t know what I needed to do to fix what I’d broken, but I knew as surely as I’ve ever known anything that I _wanted_ to fix it. And then, of course, the fourth time. When I finally understood that I didn’t have to do anything except love you. And trust you. Listen to you. Let you find your way. And finally, when you claimed me and we made our first promises to each other, then I knelt because I chose to. I needed to kneel to you, not out of fear or gratitude, but because it made me . . . well, happy. But I’m not going to kneel today. Because we did that, and it was the happiest moment of my life. Well, now I guess it’s tied with this one. But today is about something different, for me. Today I need to put the submissive aside, and stand on my feet as your partner, your soulmate and your husband. I don't know why being married is different, but it is. I can already feel it. So today I take you as mine, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, and I swear with everything I have that I will love and cherish you as long as we both shall live.”

“Somebody tell me I can kiss him before I explode.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson.”


End file.
